


Denial is Mac's Best Friend

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Catholic Guilt, Codependency, Confessions, Dysfunctional Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-24 16:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: "He drifts away, his head cooled by his window. Thinks about the first time Dennis dozed off on his shoulder in 1992. They were 16. Thinks about Dennis graduating college and them moving in together. They were 22. Thinks about leaving Dennis behind in an elevator after Dennis kinda poured his heart out. They’re 40."





	Denial is Mac's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon on Tumblr who wanted Dennis to confront Mac about his internalized homophobia/denial before coming out.

Mac skims through an issue of Sports Illustrated from 2009 while Dennis is checked out by the doctor. He isn’t big on sports in general, unless it's the Eagles (go birds!), even though he’s constantly working out, but it’s all the doctor store has that kinda interests him. So, he stares at giant, huge muscles and broad shoulders and dudes in football uniforms and tries to ignore the stiffy that will definitely swell in his pants when he thinks of Dennis in that uniform from when they tried out for the Philly Eagles.

Fuck.

He squirms uncomfortably in a hard plastic chair, tossing the magazine aside and settling for tapping his fingers on the armrest instead. Mac sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He’s pretty much been here for 100 years. Dennis’ ears hurt, and he kept whining like a little bitch while being super fucking clingy to the point of actually irritating him, so Mac made him an appointment, and now he’s just dying of boredom. Dennis is lucky he’s such an awesome guy. Most guys wouldn’t sit and wait around for their best friend like this.

Finally, the door to the office opens up, and Dennis walks out with a prescription in hand. Mac jumps from his chair and almost impulsively hugs Dennis, but he rubs the back of his neck instead.

“You okay?” Mac asks as they step inside the elevator down the hall. He ignores that they’ve been holding hands since they left the doctor’s office.

Dennis shrugs. “I have an ear infection,” he says. “No biggie. But it kinda sucked in there.”

Mac frowns. “Why?”

Dennis leans in and kisses him sweetly, and, holy fucking fuck, it leaves Mac breathless. “Because I missed you,” Dennis whispers.

He pushes Dennis away immediately, shoving him hard against the elevator wall.  
“Stop. Don’t come any closer. I-I… We can’t do this, Dennis.”

“What? Why not? You kiss me all the time!”

“Cuz I’m not gay, dude! I don’t know if you are, but I’m totally not!”

Dennis crinkles the prescription in his hand. “Mac.”

“No, dude. No fucking way.”

“It’s time, Mac.”

And that infuriates Mac. He clenches his jaw hard enough to almost break it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve been doing the same old song and dance for 20 years, man,” Dennis tells him calmly, the calmest Mac thinks he’s ever seen him. “I… I have feelings for you, okay? Real feelings. And you can’t keep hiding who you are, Mac. It’ll eat you up inside if you do.”

The elevator dings.

Mac’s heart shatters into a bajillion tiny, insignificant pieces.

Did Dennis really just say that?

Mac wants to press Dennis against the wall and make out with him so hard it’ll make the whole world spin. Mac wants to knock him the fuck out. Mac wants to hold h -

Whatever. He doesn’t. He can’t.

He fucking can’t.

Mac bolts from the doctor’s office and doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

Confessing doesn’t make him feel better.

The three Hail Mary’s do nothing to help the gnawing nausea in his stomach.

Throwing rocks at trains doesn’t do anything like he thought it would.

Mac’s shuffles through the city of Philadelphia, his favorite place in the universe, aimlessly. He grew up here. He has memories of selling weed right on this very square of concrete. He can pinpoint moments and memories here like the back of his hand, whatever that means.

Dennis says things like that, talks funny in that way. He sometimes speaks in code that Mac doesn’t understand.

He bolted out on Dennis earlier. Left him stranded in an elevator right after seeing the doctor. But his heart was confused, and he felt like he was gonna collapse. Because Dennis tried to out him. Dennis opened something inside of him and was honest enough for both of them. He remembers all the times they’ve spent the night together and made out and did hand stuff and slept tangled together on the couch. Remembers Dennis sharing cigarettes and Mac sharing snacks to ensure Dennis actually ate.

His best friend. Dennis is his best friend.

The thought of him being anything more makes Mac stop dead in his tracks. He doubles over and pukes on a patch of grass he and Dennis once laid on one July night in 1995. Mac had just finished shooting off an awesome fireworks display, three or four or eight days late because they were way too drunk and then hungover for that shit. Mac delivered a great show. Dennis sealed the night with a kiss. Neither of them ever talked about it. They never talk about it.

Mac figured there just wasn’t anything to really talk about. Until Dennis said they’d been doing the ‘same old song and dance’ for over 20 years. Until Dennis kissed him in that fucking elevator. And part of him is so… angry. Dennis assuming he’s gay makes his eyes want to escape from the eye holes in his skull. The other part of him wonders if maybe Dennis is… right? But Dennis being right would prove Mac wrong, would prove that everything he’s been fighting against admitting is the truth. The truth is meant to set you free, as Father O’Brien told him earlier, but at what cost?

Homosexuality is a sin.

He isn’t gay because he can’t be gay. God didn’t make him gay. God made him straight so he can bang women with big boobs and repopulate the world; that’s the reason for marriage, after all. But he’s nearing 40, and Dennis is the only person on the planet who makes him actually happy. Dennis can look past his manly physique and great bod to see Mac for who he is.

Mac collapses on the grass he and Dennis shared almost two decades ago.

If he tries hard enough, he can still feel the warmth of Dennis’ breath on his neck, the rise and fall of Dennis’ chest.

He shoves his hands inside the pockets of his jacket and lies down, staring up at the midday sky. He can just barely hear the cars blazing by on the freeway. It’s just him and his thoughts.

Mac’s brain begs for him to run full blast back to Dennis. He wants to wrap Dennis up in his arms. Swear he’ll never leave again. But Mac is a fuck up. He always has been. He’s screwed the pooch (whatever that means, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t about fucking a dog) more times than he can count. He’s stupid and can’t do anything for himself and can’t even wait until Dennis feels more better before he shoves him away.

Because that’s what Mac and Dennis do. They shove each other away.

Dennis really shocked the shit out of him. Someone out there has to understand that, usually, Dennis doesn’t express emotions. Dennis is basically a robot. Mac knows his best friend has emotions, but they’re pent up, locked away, and usually filled with rage or hurt or self-harm, and he can’t control them properly.

Fuck. Dennis was right fucking there.

All Mac had to do was kiss Dennis’ perfect, soft lips.

But Mac fucked up.

It’s what he does best.

 

* * *

 

Afternoon turns into evening. The early September air buzzes in Mac’s skull, cooling his insides. His stomach rumbles, and he’s positive his brain is on fire, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t leave this sacred spot from July 1995 because it’s like abandoning Dennis all over again.

He hopes Dennis made it back to the apartment. Hopes he got his antibiotics filled. Hopes he took them. Hopes he managed to eat something even though his appetite is horrible when he’s upset. He hopes Dennis is holding himself together.

Because Mac is so not holding himself together. In fact, he thinks he’s fucking ungluing.

He wipes his face with his sleeve. Okay, so what if he’s crying? Men cry. Men cry all the time. Charlie cried, like, a lot when Frank accidentally spilled canned beans all over his dream notebook. He doesn’t want to think about all the times Dennis has cried. So, instead, Mac just lets the tears fall. Maybe the ache in his chest will go away if he listens to his body.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. Nothing works.

He sits up and tosses his jacket to the side, the fabric becoming annoying and sticking to his skin. He grips at a wad of his RIOT t-shirt, the one Dennis wore to bed a couple nights ago, and tries to slow his breathing. He’s done this with Dennis more times than he can count. He’s gotten more better at taking care of Dennis throughout the years. One of his best skills is keeping him from hyperventilating.

Shit. Is he hyperventilating right now?

Mac wants to go home. He wants to go home. He needs to go home.

The apartment is warm when Dennis is there, and he’s so cold and hot and sticky and sweaty and freezing all at once.

Mac holds on to himself until he can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost midnight.

Midnight means a new day. Maybe it means that Mac can forget about everything that happened and just go home.

He snorts to himself. No fucking way. Like Dennis would ever listen to that logic.

But he can’t stay out here anymore. He can barely feet his fingers or his toes. He makes a fist, but it’s weak and stupid, and he can’t even tell he did it unless he looks. Mac sniffles and stands shakily, wiping his palms on his jeans.

He makes it back to civilization, leaving behind July 1995 and September 2016 altogether. He wanders the streets, mind foggy and not really there. He wonders if this is what it feels like when Dennis dissociates. Because Mac is, like, disconnected from his head, and he’s floating through Philly like a ghost.

Mac walks into Paddy’s without thinking about Charlie or Dee or Frank or even Dennis. No one is there. Not even their two or three regulars are. Good. He can’t picture talking to other people right now. His brain is so messed up. He wants Dennis to touch him, to let him know that it’s alright, that he’s alright, that everything will be okay. Mac wants to be who he is, but how can he do that when he knows in his heart that it’s wrong?

Last time he checked, homosexuality is still a sin. It still gets him a one way ticket straight to the fiery pits of Hell.

Mac opens up a pint of whiskey and downs it in one drink.

 

* * *

 

The wall’s staring at him.

Bitch.

Why the fuck’s it looking at him?

Mac didn’t do anything wrong.

He just pushed Dennis away when he was trying to express himself.

Stupid. He’s so stupid.

Mac should be home, cuddled up around Dennis because Dennis loves being the little spoon, and Mac loves making Dennis happy.

He throws another beer bottle at the wall, blinking when it shatters. Glass spills and covers the floor. He pops open another one because he can’t stand that dumb wall looking at him, and he can’t stand dealing with himself either.

“Mac! What the shit are you doing here?” Dee screams, and Mac curls in on himself. Fuck. He hides his face in his jacket and tries hard not to hurl because that’s definitely where this thing is going. He should’ve planned this out, but he didn’t because he’s fucking stupid.

He should’ve left hours ago to avoid running into anyone from the gang.

Mac fucks everything up. Everything.

He burps and squints into the brightness of this dumb bar. Hates it here. “Go ‘way,” he slurs.

But Bird-Elephant-Man-Lady Dee plops down in front of him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Dennis is scared shitless, and you’re in here piss ass drunk?”

Mac shoos her away with his hand.

It doesn’t work.

“I don’t wanna talk to…” He burps again. “Dennis…”

“That’s not fair, and you know it, Mac.”

“’s not fair? Not fair, Dee?” Mac says. “Wanna know what’s not fair? Cleanin’ up your best friend’s fucking messes every single day. Do you know how much I put up with for your brother? How often I have to hold his fucking hand because he gets so worked up it makes him sick? How much I have to tell him I love him to reassure I’m not gonna leave? Do you have any idea what I go through?”

Dee sighs. “He’s trying.”

“Shut up… You’re just doin’ this cuz…”

Dee stops him. “Because why? Because he’s my brother. Fuck yes, that’s why I’m doing it, Mac. I know how big of a handful he is, trust me. But he loves you. You gotta get your head out of your ass and come home.”

“Fuck that.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Mac swears he drifts off in the tension-filled silence.

“I know what Dennis told you,” Dee admits.

Mac’s eyes widen instantly. He gulps. “You know?”

Dee nods. “You two are morons, but you both deserve to be happy.”

“I’m not gay, Dee,” Mac whispers.

Tears spill over his cheeks. He tries to hide his face in his knees like Dennis always does when he’s upset, but, shit, he isn’t that flexible. This has to go away. It just has to.

“It’s okay if you are,” Dee says.

“No!” He shouts. “I’m not… I’m not… I don’t…”

He trails off when Dee puts her hands on top of his.

Dennis. He just wants Dennis.

 

* * *

 

Mac’s t-shirt and jacket are slathered in beer. His pants are stained with mud and grass. His fingertips are still numb, and he is still so fucking hungry, but there’s something missing. There’s a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be, and he’s pretty sure everyone can see it.

It’s the reason Mac goes home.

Dee drives him because he’s drunk. So drunk. Too drunk.

He drifts away, his head cooled by her window. Thinks about the first time Dennis dozed off on his shoulder in 1992. They were 16. Thinks about Dennis graduating college and them moving in together. They were 22. Thinks about leaving Dennis behind in an elevator after Dennis kinda poured his heart out. They’re 40.

“Hey,” he hears.

Mac grumbles when Dee starts shaking his shoulder. “Stop…” he whines.

Dennis calls him the ‘King of Whining;’ Mac would punch anyone else to the moon for saying that.

Dee has to practically drag him through their building. Mac’s legs aren’t exactly working, and he can barely lift his feet. Dee steadies him by holding on to his elbow, and Mac closes his eyes because his head hurts.

She’s fiddling around with the lock to the front door when Mac’s eyes snap open.

“Is Dennis here?” he slurs.

“Where else would he be?” Dee asks as she swings the door open.

Mac’s vision blackens the second he sees Dennis sobbing with Charlie wrapped around him. His legs and heart give out simultaneously.

He wonders if he can fix this, if he can go back in time to salvage this wreckage.


End file.
